


I Know Who I Am

by thefandomsinhalor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (briefly) - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Identity, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Stanford Student Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor
Summary: Thriving at Stanford, Sam believes he is finally free to embrace who he really is.But it is easier said than done.And his struggle to keep his identity intact is only beginning.





	I Know Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Swan Song Bingo. The season one square: Stanford!Sam
> 
> So, Chapter One was intended as a stand alone for the SSB, but as I was writing it, it made me reflect on the multiple “identities” that Sam adopted or had been labeled with over the years, and now I feel like I might explore all this and turn it into a full length fic.  
(which is why I will update the tags and rating as I go along.)
> 
> And thank you to Danica for your help and notes as always!!

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam lifted his eyes from his computer screen to meet Jessica’s. Holding her cup of coffee, she stared at him. She was already dressed and ready to head out for her morning class.

Sam smiled at her. “Nothing’s wrong. Um, far from it actually.” He swallowed hard and returned his focus to his computer screen to make sure he had read the e-mail properly.

“What is it, babe? Did—oh my God. Did you get it? The scores?” She stepped into the kitchen.

“Yup.”

“And?” she asked, putting down her cup on the counter.

Sam looked at her again. She was staring at him intensively and kept shifting on her feet with giddiness.

“174.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Sam!” she cheered as she dashed towards him. With her arms wrapped around him, she gave him a warm, tight hug. “That’s almost a perfect score.”

“It’s not.”

“Stop. I’m so proud of you!”

Sam, unable to contain his smile, beamed. “Yeah?”

“Of course! I knew you could do it!” She loosened her embrace to look at him properly. Standing on her tip toes, she kissed him tenderly.

“Damn it,” she said, after breaking the kiss. “I have to leave. I’m sorry. I’m—I’ll probably be late already.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Sam.

“We have to celebrate!” she said urgently. “Tonight.”

He let out a sigh. “You know how I feel about—today.”

“I know, but—Sam, this is huge. We have to do something. Besides, we agreed to meet Luis at the pub.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek and walked away from him.

Sam groaned. “I was hoping to skip it.”

She stopped and turned around, amused. “Nah-uh. You said you would go out with us. Despite today being Halloween. And now you have a perfect excuse.”

“You mean you have the perfect excuse to drag me there.”

“Just be ready!” she said, laughing. And after a quick look at the clock, she hurried towards the door. “I love you!”

Sam’s morning was rather uneventful. He went to study for an hour at the library before his morning class as he always did.

The class was long. His mind was slightly wandering today, so he took avid notes to focus and was grateful that at least his professor was engaging.

After his class, he stopped by Brady’s place to check up on him. He hadn’t seen Brady in quite a while and he didn’t live far from campus, so Sam would have plenty of time to come back for his afternoon class.

Brady welcomed him with a broad smile.

“I was just about to eat some leftovers. Want some? Chinese food,” said Brady after shutting the door behind Sam.

“Great. I guess it will pair up perfectly with the subs I picked up for us on my way here,” said Sam, lifting the paper bag he was holding.

Brady laughed loudly. “Weird combos it is. Just like freshman year.”

“Seems so,” said Sam, sitting at the counter. While Brady was busy retrieving the food containers from the fridge, Sam glanced around the apartment.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing troublesome.

Spick-and-span.

“Sam?”

Sam mildly jumped at his name and returned his attention to Brady.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you. I’m having issues focusing today, I guess.”

Brady stared at him quietly for a moment. “Any reason why?”

“Just tired. I just—”

“What?”

“Just had issues sleeping. That’s all.” He handed Brady one of the subs and began unwrapping the second one.

“Any reason in particular?” said his friend.

“Stress. School. I finally got my LSAT,” he said before taking a bite of his sub.

Brady froze. When Sam remained silent, he asked him about his score. Once Sam told him, trying not to feel embarrassed, Brady cheered loudly, pumping his fist in the air. “That’s terrific, Sam.” He looked down at the food on the counter. “I kinda feel like we should eat something else instead.”

Sam shook his head. “Nah. This is actually nice. What about you? Did you finally made a decision for next year? Last time we talked, you seemed undecided.”

“Nothing concrete, yet, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay too. You tell me when you do, though? And _then_, we’ll celebrate.”

“Deal,” said Brady, grinning. He helped himself to some dumplings and asked, “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

Brady stopped chewing. He paused a moment, and then smirked at him. “You wondered if I was up to no good?”

“Brady—I—”

“That’s why you were eyeing my place earlier. Are you worried about me?”

“No. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I—I just—”

“Sam, relax,” he said after taking a big bite of his sub. “I get it. You want to make sure I haven’t gotten back to my old ways—”

“Brady, I’m—”

“If anything,” he said, cutting him off, “I’m touched. But I promise I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.”

“Okay,” said Sam, nodding. “Can I ask how you’ve been busy?” he asked in a lighter tone, which made Brady laugh.

His friend observed him a moment, as if he was deciding to what extent he should share, and finally said, “Let’s just say that something is brewing in the background. Something big. _Life altering_ big for some of us. In a way.”

“Really? And when is your big turning point is supposed to happen?”

“Oh, I didn’t say it would be life altering for me, per se. Although, it will evidently change things for me too.”

Sam frowned at him. “What?” He let out a small laugh. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” said Brady, smiling at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m not giving away the surprise.”

“That’s not vague or ominous at all,” said Sam.

“Any plans tonight?” asked Brady, changing the subject. “I’m sure Jess is planning something to celebrate.”

Sam pursed his lips and lowered his eyes.

“Right,” sighed Brady. “You and Halloween. I forgot. What’s up with that?”

“I just—it’s not my thing. Jess and I are meeting Luis at the pub tonight. A few of the others said they’d show up there too—you’re welcome to join, by the way—”

“I would love that, believe me, but I actually have other plans tonight.”

“All right. I’m—I was sort of trying to get out of it, but now Jess is insisting on celebrating tonight…”

“Can’t really miss that,” said Brady, amused. “Want my advice? I think you should listen to Jess. She clearly has your best interest at heart. Going out, instead of staying in to study—again—won’t kill you, Sam. Embrace it while you can.”

Sam enjoyed the rest of his lunch with Brady, discussing their options and hopes for their school years to come. Brady was enthusiastic and gave Sam a detailed list of his intensive school year schedule to meet all the application deadlines.

Much like the one Sam had to endure as well.

Soon enough, however, Sam needed to head back towards campus, so he thanked Brady for the lunch and reminded him of the night’s invitation in case his plans changed.

Back on campus, Sam hurried to his next class, swirling the ambling students around him. But as he passed by the Hoover Tower, he came to a halt when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

_Dean. Dad._

His stomach dropped. He hadn’t told them about his results yet. And he had just now realized that fact.

_Why would I though? It’s not like they get it._

And while he knew perfectly well that this was true, he also felt somewhat guilty that his first thought hadn’t been to tell Dean.

_Dean would care. He might think it’s pointless and that I am wasting my time with Law school, but he would care. Dad too, but…_

He retrieved his phone from his pocket and pondered about dialing. He pursed his lips, staring stubbornly at his phone.

All his reasons for having left, for having kept to himself all this time, came rushing back in his mind. Because he wanted to be free and lead his own life. Because he was tired of hunting. Because it wasn’t who he was.

And now, even though he wanted to share this news with them, he was worried calling might open the door for them—for John—to pull him back in.

Sam let out a sigh of frustration.

_I can’t do it._

_Because this isn’t me anymore. This has never been me. I’m okay here. I’m with Jess. I have friends. A future. A future that won’t end with blood. And death. And pain. _

_And soul crushing drama._

_I already had enough of drama as it is._

_This—me being a civilian who actually has a life, who is participating in society and doesn’t run anywhere—this is what I want. This is who I am._

He stared at his phone. At the contact “Dean.”

_But I would still like to tell Dean._

And after a moment of hesitation, when he almost hit dial, he shook his head, shoved the phone back in his pocket and continued his route.

_The number is probably not even in service anymore. And they’ll say what? Congratulations? Even if they mean it and it’s not just out of politeness, they will still probably think it’s a waste of time._

_And I don’t want to hear that. Not today. Not after everything. _

_And more than anything, I don’t want to risk getting sucked into that. I managed to get myself out of it. I don’t want to ruin it._

_I’m not a hunter. I want to be a lawyer._

And that was what he kept repeating to himself the rest of the day.

In his afternoon class, which turned out to be extremely difficult to focus on.

When he devoured his dinner at the bookstore where he worked. Especially when he overheard two students discussing doing a séance at the Holy Cross cemetery that night.

Based on what they were planning on bringing, not to mention how they intended on proceeding, Sam judged that there wasn’t anything to worry about. He kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t sound like a complete freak.

Which was extremely difficult at times.

_I’m not a hunter. I want to be a lawyer._

Words that he repeated to himself, once again, when he bumped into Mr. Gable, who lived across the hall from him and Jess, in their building’s lobby. His neighbor appeared grim, which was very unlike him, so Sam asked him what was wrong. Mr. Gable complained that “weird stuff” was happening in his apartment and when he notified their landlord, he wasn’t very keen on doing anything about it.

“What do you mean by ‘weird stuff’?”

“The lights are glitching. And the damn thermostat is broken.”

Sam frowned. “How so?” 

“It’s cold all the time. Which makes no sense, I know,” he added after assessing Sam’s expression. “I know it’s not winter yet, but it’s cold. Anyway, he came in, checked a few things and said everything was in order.”

“Did you ever have this problem before?”

“No. And I’ve lived here for almost ten years now.”

Sam swallowed. “Mr. Gable, I—I’m sure the landlord is—can I have a look?”

“At my apartment? You?”

“It’s probably just the wiring with the lights and…stuff, but I can check if you want.”

“And you’re an electrician?”

“Um, no. But I get by. I changed a few things in our apartment when we moved in. I got rid of that old ceiling fan that looked like it would just drop on our heads.”

Mr. Gable laughed. “All right. A quick look wouldn’t hurt.”

After Sam told him he needed to get a few things first, he dashed to his apartment and gunned for some of his gear he hid in the bottom of the closet. Away from prying eyes. Away from Jess’ grasp. He had explained to her that this was “hunting” gear and should be kept safely away at all times. He wouldn’t use it, but felt like he had to keep it for a weird “sentimental” value.

He knew Jess respected his space, especially in regards to anything involving his family. He also knew that if Jess ever decided to have a closer look in the duffle bag, while some guns and knifes would make sense, there was a bunch of other stuff that wouldn’t add up as hunting equipment.

_Traditional hunting_ that was.

Sam simply grabbed the EMF and put his bag back in the closet.

Mr. Gable’s apartment’s inspection turned out to be very quick. He asked his neighbor the usual spill, trying his best to not sound overly invasive or weird. No recent deaths in the family or surroundings. No purchased or heirloom items. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

And while the place was a bit chilly, it wasn’t like the usual ice-cold spots. Not like the ones that made the hair at the back of his neck rise and paralyzed him for a second.

He also noticed that Mr. Gable liked to have the windows open.

“Everybody needs fresh air!” he said defensively.

And while the lights did flicker, the EMF, on the other hand, didn’t react, so Sam judged it was the wiring. Sam assured him that he would mention it to the landlord next time he saw him, and that if the landlord still did nothing about the lights then, he asked Mr. Gable to come and find him again, and Sam promised to help him out.

His neighbor thanked him and Sam headed back home, telling himself that it was just bad wiring.

_Besides, I am done with all this. This is just me not being stupid. Being cautious. _And he figured that the supernatural was simply on his mind due to Halloween.

_We’re close to—this is why I’m going there. But there is nothing._

Despite having fun with Jess and Luis, and the fact that he was celebrating and happy about his scores, keeping his mind away from the supernatural proved to be challenging on that evening nonetheless.

He was used to Halloween being the “night off,” but observing everyone’s costumes made it difficult to ignore that fact.

Luis was dressed as a zombie, which was a nice effort, Sam judged, to the real thing with the ragged clothes and makeup.

_Except for the smell. Nothing can be faked about the authenticity of a rotten corpse._

Failing to solely focus on Jess, Sam noticed everyone around them. Some guy wearing a pope outfit. A pirate. Some girl wearing a silver spandex and silver wig. Another one wearing a white puffy dress. And a veil. _A bride._ She walked right behind Jess. And next to someone wearing multicolored curly hair with—

_Fuck, no. Why? _Sam took a deep breath

_Why do people insist on dressing up as clowns? Why do people want to dress up period?_

And it wasn’t until later that night, once he was lying in his bed, desperately trying to fall asleep that a troubling thought came to him.

_I don’t like that people are dressing up for fun because I was forced to do it my whole life. My whole life I had to pretend to be someone else. I had to lie about everything. I had to lie to everyone._

_Every day was Halloween for me. The bad part of it, I suppose, but still._

_And I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be that person. I want to be me. Just me._

He sighed as his heart grew heavy. Feeling his arm going numb, he turned on his back.

Another thought crept into his mind.

_But I’m still lying. Not like before, but I’m still lying. _

And then, he made the mistake of opening his eyes.

And momentarily froze as he stared at the ceiling.

And saw it in a flash. Jess. The burning ceiling. The image imprinted in his mind from his nightmare.

_Nothing. There’s nothing. Of course, there’s nothing._

He turned his head towards Jessica who was peacefully sleeping next to him.

_She’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. _

He told himself this a hundred times, convincing himself that it was all a dream. _Nightmare. Nothing else._ And considering the time of year, it was not surprising why these nightmares—theses atrocious, paralyzing nightmares—would occur.

_This is just me reacting to stress or something. _

_And this is exactly the reason why I should keep on track. Not care about anything else._

He took a deep breath, turned on his side again to avoid looking at the ceiling and shut his eyes. He had every intention to clear his mind.

But it didn’t work as well as he had hoped. The moment that image surfaced into his head, it was difficult to let it go. And the usual depressing hits started to rush in. His mother. John yelling about Stanford. Crappy motels. The journal. Kids telling him he was weird. Moving.

_And therefore, me always being the weird kid._

_And now, creepy nightmares of Jess burning on the ceiling. Like Mom._

_No. This is—_

_I have nothing to do with this. _

_This is not me. This is not me. This is not me._

_I know who I am. And no one can change that. I have a say into this._

And he eventually fell asleep as he repeated his mantra. For the most part, it had worked.

Sam did not have nightmares about Jessica burning on the ceiling.

He had a dreamless sleep that night.

Until he was awoken by a sound in his apartment.

The sound that broke his sleep.

The sound that brought him back to reality.

To his reality.

A window opening.


End file.
